


self indulgence i hope other people will enjoy

by roidadidou



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: For people like me who wanted something that wasn't sexual, but didn't want to sacrifice the intimacy.Rated teen for slight innuendo.





	1. Chapter 1

You probably shouldn't have packed up your things and moved to an island where nobody knew you, right after you turned twenty-one. But the mortgage was cheap and it seemed like a good enough place to live; and you had already been hired for a job.  


You figured with your newfound independence, you would spend some extra cash having fun at the island's casino.  


You wore the same dress you had worn to your job interview; how scandalous! As soon as you stepped into the casino, you were bombarded by the enticing scent of alcohol, tobacco and cologne.  


You bought a drink; something fruity, but fast-acting to get you buzzed.  


But you didn't know what game to start with. You'd never gambled before, and didn't want to just throw the money away. You decided to approach the billiards table. At least that was something familiar. “Howdy, miss,” said a man in a zoot suit as he handed you a cue stick.  


“Hello,” You replied, taking the stick.  


You watched the man and his friend take their turns shooting, then one nodded at you to signal that it was your turn. You bent over the table, taking aim, and shot, but the white ball simply bounced once and tapped the ball you were aiming for. You winced.  


“Shoot. I haven't played in years.”  


“You want me to jog your memory?”  


You spun around to see a man that left you speechless. A suave face on a white die, above a striking purple suit. He was smiling with a hospitable attitude. The man that every high school girl dreamt of marrying...  


“I, uh-... Sure,” You managed to squeak out.  


He turned you around, standing right behind you to your side. His chest was only inches from your back as he pulled your hand to the table, aiming the stick.  


Feeling his breath on your ear sent a chill up your spine and down your arms. He smelled like a delightfully smooth brandy.  


“Don't harass the poor girl like that,” one of the other men said.  


“I'm not harassing nobody. She doesn't mind, do you, sweetheart?”  


You swallowed.  


“No, sir,”  


The man helping you chuckled. After positioning your hands just so, he stepped back.  


“Now, shoot.”  


You struck the white ball with your stick, miraculously sending two other balls into the table's pockets.  


“Look at that! Now you're an expert.”  


You smiled sheepishly, hoping your face hadn't turned too red.  


“Thank you, sir,” you replied.  


“No problem at all. The name's Dice; King Dice. I'm the manager here.”  


Your eyes widened.  


“The manager?”  


“Yup. I couldn't bear to see a pretty girl like you alone out here… Who knows what you could have gambled away. We even deal in souls.”  


You remained silent, but your look of surprise was enough of a reply for him.  


“Let me buy you a drink, hon.”  


“Oh, I already had one…”  


“Something light then. Maybe a nice wine?”  


You couldn't object. You just wanted to stay in his company. You didn't even need a drink; the sight of his face and the sound of his voice was intoxicating.  


You two approached the bar, where he paid for your glass of wine and a glass of scotch for himself.  


“I haven't seen your face around here before. Is this your first time here?” He inquired as you both sat down on the barstools.  


“I just moved here,” Your finger traced the edge of the wine glass, “I needed to move out of my parents’ house. Grow up a bit.”  


“Why'd you choose Inkwell Isle, of all places?” He said after taking a sip of his drink. The sound of ice on the glass was satisfying to your ears.  


“I dunno, thought the pictures looked pretty.”  


“Is it what you thought it would be?”  


“I can't say I don't like it here so far.”  


He gave a pleased ‘hmm' in response.  


“Why don't we play a few games, huh? Your choice.”  


You pondered it.  


“Blackjack.” You finally answered. He smiled and nodded.  


What luck! You were the only two players at the table. The dealer set one card face-down in front of you. You each peeked.  


Hit me, hit me, hit me, pass… You played a few games together with no words other than the commands of the game. Over time, a group of skeletons and ghouls had gathered to watch the casino's manager play. He didn't spend his own money here often. You took a deep breath, tapping the table with your painted nails as you held the edge of it.  


“I think we should raise the stakes.” You finally blurted. King Dice looked over to you.  


“Oh? What do you have in mind?”  


“One game. The winner… Gives one command to the loser. Anything they want.”  


Dice smiled curiously. The crowd muttered to each other with a tone of humor.  


“I'll take it. Hope you don't get cold feet when you lose.”  


One card was placed in front of you. You took a peek; five.  


“Hit me.” Now you had seven.  


“Hit me.” Twelve.  


“Hit me.” Nineteen.  


Dice looked over to you, waiting for you to decide your turn.  


“... Hit me.”  


The dealer placed a card in front of you.  


Four.  


Twenty-one! All King Dice had to do was come up short or go over.  


“Hit me.” King Dice said. Ace. He fell silent, with shock stained on his face. The skeletons whooped and hollered to mock him, hitting his back. He looked to you with a smile of surprise.  


“Looks like you won, doll.” He said. He bowed comically from his seat.  


“Your wish is my command, master.”  


You knew immediately what you wanted. You had been thinking about it the whole game. You stood, dusting off the lap of your dress and wringing your hands.  


“I'll… Tell you in private.”  


He smiled as if he hadn't lost after all.  


He took your hand, leading you to a secluded hallway.  


“Spill it.” He said, his voice tinged with curiosity and humor.  


You inhaled.  


“A back massage. My shoulders, too.”  


His eyebrows lifted.  


“A back massage? That’s all?” He wasn't impartial to the idea, but it wasn't what he was expecting.  


You nodded.  


“Alright. Follow me.”  


He led you to a hallway of staff bedrooms, his being at the end of the hall. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking the door.  


“Ladies first,” he gestured.  


You entered the room. It was an above-standard room you'd see in a fancy hotel.  


He pulled a cushioned chair from his desk. “Shoulders first?”  


You nodded, sitting down.  


He wouldn't admit it, but he had never done anything like that before. He had definitely been expecting something more explicit. Nevertheless, he lost a bet, and he was a man of his word. He pulled his gloves off, setting them on the desk. You caught a glimpse of his hands as you pulled your hair over your shoulder; you didn't expect his skin to be lavender.  


You felt goosebumps as his warm hands went to the dip of your neck. His thumbs went in deep lines from your shoulder blades to the hairline on the back of your head. His thumbs and palms went underneath your dress at times, and at others held his hands with a tight grip on your shoulders to rub in circles. He seemed to believe that a massage was always meant to go deep into the muscles. You had been hoping he would do it like that; had he be too afraid to hurt you, you wouldn't get to feel the satisfaction of the tension and knots in your muscles being expelled.  


In rhythmic, yet alternating patterns, he gripped your skin in various ways. On your shoulders, then your neck, then your shoulders again. Your eyes had closed long ago in bliss.  


This went on for nearly fifteen minutes, until your eyes opened from his voice.  


“Your back now?” He asked. You stood, and he gestured to his bed. His own bed… That made you feel special. You laid down near the edge, and he immediately put his hands on you, but you objected.  


“Unzip my dress first, please. And my bra.”  


You could sense his hesitation, but he followed, the metal zipper tracing your back down to your waist. He fumbled to work the clasps of the bra, but managed. His hands spread the clothing open so he could have ample space to work. Your arms folded under your head as you looked to the left.  


Again, you felt shivers as he began to rub his palms and fingertips on your back. You thought about the situation; a handsome, wealthy man you just met taking you into his room to open your dress and put his hands on you… Imagine what the people of your hometown would say!  


The heel of his palm went into the dip of your spine, twisting down in a satisfying fashion. He was no masseur, but he knew what a good massage felt like. You, on the other hand, had never had one on this level. Schooltime boyfriends had squeezed and rubbed your shoulders in the privacy of their homes, but they were always aiming to get something else out of it.  


The most likely explanation for his knowledge was that he spent his own money on getting massages. He knew what a knot in your back felt like, squeezing the skin and rubbing down into the tissue to release it.  


The room was dead silent, other than the sound of his and your breathing, and the sound of skin rubbing skin. It started to give you goosebumps. You let out a satisfied hum as his fingertips stippled up and down your flesh. Wearing a bra every day had left a visible pale imprint around the area. It was a bit embarrassing to let him see, but you hoped he didn’t notice. Or… You hoped he had seen it enough times on other women not to care. But that area, which had one been a bit sore and numb from the continuous strain, gained color again as your acquaintance squeezed and prodded with his fingers, palms and thumbs.  


His hands were placed at the bottom of your back, then climbing upward as he rolled the skin with both hands. Had you gotten better grades in your English class, you would have compared his magical touch to that of King Midas…  


What felt like half an hour could have been less than five minutes, or more than forty. It took an effort not to doze off on his bed in an attempt to savor the gift. Could you stop time like a film reel, you would. But eventually, he clumsily clicked the clasp of your bra back on, zipping up your dress.  


“I don’t want to brag, but it appears that I’ve left you satisfied.” He said as you stood.  


“No doubt,” You replied. He gestured for a handshake, and when you reciprocated, he surprised you by lifting your hand and kissing it.  


“To my surprise, I enjoyed this time. Why don’t you come back tomorrow? Maybe we’ll turn the tables.” He said with a smile.  


“You don’t have to ask me twice…”  


With a pat on your back, he sent you out of his hotel room politely.  


Any qualms you had about Inkwell Isle were absolved, and you knew what you were doing tomorrow night after work…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is 100x more mushy and romantic. sue me

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” King Dice cooed in your ear, his hands tracing your hips as you sat in one of the chairs lining his kitchen island.  


You had heard many things about him. That he was a womanizer, naturally, that you were a temporary squeeze for him to get some satisfaction out of, then throw out when you stopped giving him what he wanted.  


The women you worked with told you to stay away from him, before he broke your heart.  


You looked down at the tinted reflection of your face that sat in your alcoholic drink.  


“Do you love me?” You asked delicately.  


“What a question, dear, of course I do…”  


“No, I mean… Really.”  


He was silent, confused.  


“How many other women have you said that to?”  


His fingers froze on the sides of your waist.  


“And truly meant it, like how I say it to you? None.”  


You crossed your arms and leaned forward, your elbows resting on his pristine countertop.  


“How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth?”  


“I’ll be honest with you, there are a lot of women who have been in this room, and on my bed…”  


That didn’t make you feel better.  


“But only once. Then we part, and I never see them again.”  


His gloved hands gently cupped your bare arms, where the sleeves of your dress ended, slowly rubbing up and down. It put goosebumps on your skin.  


He was a man who was very concerned with intimacy.  


“When I spent money on them, it was only on their drinks.”  


“What does that mean? You haven’t bought me anything else.” You interrupted. You felt his hands leave your skin, and heard his footsteps across the carpet. The creak of his desk’s drawer being opened and shut. And then you saw his white glove set a small box in front of you.  


He talked as you pulled the lid off.  


“I figured, I could have kept them hidden as long as I needed, until I learn when your birthday is.”  


A pair of simple, golden earrings. They were perfect. You liked them simple.  


“Oh, my goodness… Thank you, I-...”  


Your hands went to your left ear, fumbling to pull out the piercing you already had.  


His hand pulled your hair out of the way, and your hands returned to your lap as you felt him pull the backing off of the piercings in a much more delicate manner. He held them in front of you, and dropped them in your opened palm. He picked up the box, pulling the cardboard out that held the earrings, and you felt his hands put them in for you.  


When he gently brushed your hair back to the way it was, his fingers hit a knot. He mumbled an apology, hoping it didn’t hurt you.  


“Oh, I didn’t brush my hair before I came here… It must look terrible, I’m sorry…” Your pulled your handbag into your lap from the chair next to you, opening it and pulling out your hairbrush. To your surprise, he took it from you.  


“Allow me,” He said, perhaps in some faux mockery of uptight upper-class behaviour.  


You felt chills as the back of his hand brushed your neck. The time you spent with him was addicting; before you had met him, you weren’t aware of just how starved you were for intimacy. The rounded edges of the brush’s bristles on your scalp seemed to figuratively suck up your worries like a sponge.  


They called you in for overtime… Your latest paycheck bounced and you had to wait an extra day… Your co-workers gossipped about you at the water cooler… None of that mattered when you were in this room, the soft yellow light overhead complimenting the red carpet and paint… King Dice didn’t seem like a man who was educated in commitment, but living in the moment was good enough for you. Because in this moment, you could hear the soft tune he hummed in your ear, buzzing in your mind in just the right way, as the brush gingerly tugged at the knots in your hair just enough to leave a tingle on your skin.  


Years from now, even if things went awry, you would still always have the pleasant memories of the gentle touch of his hands on your body, the scent of a finely-aged wine on his breath, and the sweet nothings he encouraged you with every night.  


No matter how the tables turned, those couldn’t be spoiled for you, you thought to yourself. He finished, comically mimicking a hair stylist as he preened the locks of your hair just so. He handed you your brush back, and watched as you tucked it away in your bag. He stopped you, gingerly lifting one of your hands and rubbing the top of it with his thumb.  


“My nail polish is all chipped,” You explained.  


“The hands of a modern working woman,” He clarified.  


“I believe a bottle of polish this exact color is somewhere in the performers’ dressing room.”  


“The ladies’ dressing room?”  


“I’m allowed in there, I run the place. Let me fetch it for you.”  


“Oh, you don’t have to do that-”  


But he left anyway, returning a few minutes later with the bottle. And, as promised, it matched the color you were already wearing. He stood across from you on the other side of the counter.  


“What, are you gonna paint my nails for me?” You asked. He pulled a paper towel from the roll sitting on the counter, laying it down in front of you.  


“Sure, and I’ll even do it for free.” He joked. He pulled his gloves off, not wanting to stain them with polish.  


“I dunno… You don’t have a cosmetologist’s license.”  


“It ain’t any harder than writing in cursive.” He retorted, slowly unscrewing the black cap of the bottle, a little surprise in his eyes when he saw that it doubled as the brush. He held out his hand for you, and you placed yours in his. His grip was steady, but not tight. The brush didn’t shake as he touched up the polish on your nails.  


“I bet you’ll feel fancy at work tomorrow, with your new earrings.” He said, making conversation.  


“It’s an office job, nobody will notice.” Your free hand went to holding up your chin, as you watched him work.  


“No men to steal you away from me, then.”  


A humble laugh left your lips.  


Silence between you two never felt awkward or lacking. On your dates from high school, tension would hang between you and your suitor when the conversation went quiet. And the longer it lasted, the harder it was to recover. But with the man in front of you, neither of you ever hit a dead end, and he could always say the right thing.  


“Perhaps, this week, I’ll take you to see a moving picture.” He stated, not looking away from your hand.  


“I’d like that.” You responded.  


“As long as it isn’t a spooky one.”  


“If it is, you’ve got someone to hold onto.” He winked with the grin you fell in love with.  


When your nails dried, you looked at the clock. Midnight? And you had to be at work in six hours! You gathered your handbag and stood.  


“Oh, stay for a drink, won’t you?” He suggested.  


“No, no, I can’t, I’ve got work in the morning…”  


At least he was understanding. Many men in this day couldn’t afford that. He raised your hand to his lips, kissing it, and smiled.  


“Maybe tomorrow, then.”  


You turned and headed for the door, but gasped when you felt him gently grip your arm. He pulled you toward him, and breaking a boundary neither of you had said aloud, cupped your face and kissed you. His hands slowly left your jawline and lingered down to the dip in your back. When you broke the kiss, he looked in your eyes with a composed smile.  


You were speechless. But he was waiting for you to speak.  


“I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow.” Was all you managed to say.


End file.
